


What is, Is Worse

by YaminoTenshi202



Series: Lark and Nightingale [7]
Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Original Work, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Controversial Topics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Original Character(s), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spiritual, they're staying for a while longer, vague quotations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:41:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lies are the root of trouble. The lack of trust and love is painful. Jackson has been targeted by Death, and in a slip of tongue, he is taken. Pitch is reaching for Jackson, trying to save him, but Jackson isn't even sure if he can trust Pitch anymore.</p><p>Worse, he doesn't know if he ever did in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. War's Attack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Black Ice Fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Black+Ice+Fandom), [Miss_Evening](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Evening/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it real? Is it my imagination?  
> The fire feels real  
> And so do the tears
> 
> The nightmare, unwaning,  
> My eyes open to the sky  
> Is it day, or is it night?
> 
> \- War's Attack by /moi/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I messed up before. Thanks for the kudos that I got before the chapter was completed. You guys are amazing ;-;

 

  
  _To live in fear and falsehood is worse than death._

_\- Zend-Avesta, 6th century B.C._

* * *

Jackson was asleep. How deeply he was sleeping, and how troubled his sleep was. His lungs were not gathering enough air for him to stay conscious and his dreams were plagued with nightmares. If he could have spoken to Tooth, who was wiping his forehead, cleaning off the sweat of his fever, he would tell her to wake him up. Wake him up as violently as she could! He wanted to cry out that she was not supposed to soothe him, that waking him in anger at his weakness would be better, so he could focus on that rather than his troubled sleep.

In his nightmare, he was running from the wolves again and it was terrifying to him because he saw a face among them. He heard his father’s voice urging him ahead, to keep going, but he knew that his father was dead. Dead at his feet, Father would lie, and his hand would be on Jackson’s face, words mouthed at him:

“You’re at fault.”

Why hadn’t he woken his father up immediately when he saw the first wolf? He had been cowardly.

It was no excuse that he was a child, paralysed in fear.

No excuse.

He ran from the wolves and he paid no heed to their words, no matter how desperately he wanted to succumb.

He heard his Pitch’s voice from somewhere, could hear the gentle whispers of love and promise and _Little Lamb, let me love you_ and _Come here, I’ll keep you safe_ and-

Jackson’s legs were burning, fatigued from the running, but he could not stop. Certainly the Devil himself was chasing him, chasing and starving and covetous.

“Keep running, Jackson.”

He opened his eyes for a moment. He saw a woman with fiery hair, her red horse seeming to float next to him. Forever she seemed to float above the ground, and had Jackson dared to look at the path that her horse left, he would have seen the bloody trail that she let in her wake.

He panted for air to answer her. She chuckled instead.

“Death desires you, child. I am merely guiding the war in your mind, your civil war.”

The wolves were coming closer and Jackson shook his head at her.

_No!_

_I have no war inside of me!_

In his mind’s eye, he could see a figure that resembled him: tall, thin, and clad in the same blue sweater that Jackson had first awoken in.

“After all, child, don’t you know?” Her words were like milk and honey and Jackson cringed as her hand, covered in designs of some exotic nature that Tooth had shown him that mimicked the swirl of sunlight, touched his cheek, the heat of it solder his flesh to the muscles underneath. Blood was filling his mouth and the taste of it made him gag. He stumbled harshly and Jackson cried out, blood spraying over his lips as he felt his ribs crack against the ground.

The maid of fire remained above him, and she was smiling! Jackson knew not to reach out to her and he bowed his head down. He felt pathetic beneath this woman and he was still trying to move. His arms moved of their own volition, reaching ahead for safety. Once they got to the area beneath her, his hands smelt of scorched flesh. He pulled them away and stared up at her.

“I am the Flames of War, child. And you never answered my question,” she chided, turning to see from where he was running. Jackson bit his lip and rolled onto his back.

The beast landed on top of him and its breath ghosted over his cheeks. Jackson opened his eyes and the tears that he’d been fighting while talking to the War Woman began to roll down his face, sliding off of his cheeks.

_“Hello, little lamb.”_

“If the Devil wants to entice you,” he heard War say, her voice cutting through the fog of his mind. The beast was holding him down with hands on his collarbone and shoulder, his breathing thinner and his mouth opening to get more air in.

“Wouldn’t he come in the form of the thing you desire most?” She finished, disappearing with a look of disgust in her eyes that Jackson wouldn’t have been able to comprehend as self-disgust if he had seen. He would have asked her why if he had.

He was too focused on the Devil above him.

“Pitch?”

_“Yes, Jack.”_

Jackson whimpered and shook his head. The vision in his mind of that boy with white hair and the blue sweater shifted. The vision’s mouth twitched into a slightly amused smile and Jackson knew that if he succumbed to that damned name – that damned name bestowed upon him by that man – Jackson would disappear.

“I’m not-”

 _“Shush, now,_ ” the Devil said, closing its eyes – Jackson could let himself breathe again, not being subject to the familiar golden eyes – and moving to press kisses, sweetly soft, at his hairline. _“Let’s not think of that now.”_

_My name is Jackson. My name is Jackson. My name is Jackson._

* * *

Tooth felt her feathers ruffle in apprehension. North was covering Jackson with a blanket. Jackson was on the bed that he had used the last time the boy had been in the Workshop, and he wouldn’t stop crying.

He was trying to claw at his face and then he went to gouge at his forearms. Tooth had just held him as he sobbed against her, never minding how some of her feathers were bent from the force of holding him. As she preened her feathers, she watched over him.

She wiped away his tears, wiped at his arms to clear away the blood, and tried to wake him from sleep as gently as she could.

“North, what’s wrong? There isn’t any nightmare or shadow here. What’s going on?”

“Not a nightmare.” North shook his head. “An act of war, perhaps.”

“‘War’?” Bunnymund emerged from the exit hole of a tunnel, his stance tense and body ready to attack if necessary. He saw the human boy on the bed and felt danger.

_Don’t go close._

“Bunny?” The Pooka lifted his head and saw Tooth waving a hand in front of his eyes. Her violet eyes were filled with tears, ones that were now turning into golden dust as she fought to stay happy. The golden dust that her palace was covered in was the same, and it forever kept powerful memories alive. That Tooth would need those memories now, something was coming to threaten their friend again.

“There’s no hope inside of him.”

North shook his head.

“Impossible. There is always hope in children.”

Bunnymund scoffed and replied, “If you can’t tell North, this Jack – Jackson – isn’t a child. He’s a young man. An adult already, and our belief doesn’t work so well on adults.”

North shook his head and Bunny noticed how his blue eyes were full of a sad kind of wonder.

“It can’t be so.”

* * *

Hands were wandering lower, fingers dipping under his clothes, and it made Jackson shiver with the familiarity in which they found his most sensitive spots, began to excite him in that carnal sense of pleasure that happened when they made love-

“No! You’re not Pitch!” He tried to hit the Devil, but his fists were passing through it and his arms were being clamped down upon by something like the tenderizers that the butcher used on the meat-

_“Don’t entice the wolves, love. Just let it happen.”_

Jackson tried to scream - for his father, for Porter, for Pitch, even to the Devil himself - for forgiveness of whatever he had done to merit this, and he was cut off by agonizingly familiar lips, pressing to his neck and drawing out moans from the pit of his soul. He tried to push at the things clamping his arms, but the wolves bit down harder, finally tearing into his flesh and making him still.

 _“Just succumb to it, Jackson.”_ His clothes were peeling away and every inch of his torso was being kissed and he felt filthy. His legs were being spread and there were fingers coming inside of him and _he couldn’t lie and say it didn’t feel good_.

“Pitch,” he sobbed, wanting to open his eyes and have it be some nightmare that Pitch couldn’t keep a hold of for some reason or another.

 _“I’m right here, Jackson. I’m right here.”_ The Devil’s voice didn’t change its tone or strength, even as he was making Jackson moan beneath him, get lost in a hurricane of sensation that Jackson had only felt once before. The wolves seemed to fade from existence and there was only pleasure.

Maybe… A moment…

He was in such pain, in his heart. His eyes saw nothing but the dark and he was flashing back to how his father died. Cold hands and a recital of a prayer, but there was no answer to it. The Pastor could do nothing, the Doctor could do nothing, and his father fell to Death’s embrace.

In his mind’s eye, away from the gentle touches of the Pitch-mimicking Devil, he saw Niry-A-Na, in a male form, extending out a hand towards him. Jackson shivered in fear of the unknown, balking as a sensation spread through him. A spirit seemed to emerge from him. Jackson saw his father’s back moving farther away from him.

_Father?_

Death took his father’s hand and smiled. Jackson’s father turned around and smiled at his son, moving his lips with no sound to accompany the movements.

_“Come along.”_

Jackson shook his head, feeling a familiar hand rest on his cheek.

 _“Jackson, shush now. I’m right here.”_ He whimpered, feeling hips roll against his passionately.

“Pitch?” The vision of his father and Death cleared away. They were in Pitch’s home again. “What?”

 _“Did you have a nightmare_?” Pitch shushed him with lightly peppered kisses to his forehead. _“I’m sorry. I had to wake you up like this. I couldn’t control this one.”_

Jackson shook his head. It wasn’t Pitch’s fault!

“I’m so… lost.”

Pitch smiled cheekily down at him.

_“Then let me help you find yourself, lamb.”_

* * *

“The first Horseman we saw was Death. The second controls Conquest and Plague. There are two others…” North laid his hand on Jackson’s forehead, wishing to will away the boy’s whimpers. “There are still Famine and War left.”

“Doesn’t look like Famine’s the one that struck here,” Bunnymund commented, turning to comfort Tooth, who was shaking at the implications.

“So an act of War then?”

North nodded grimly, wiping Jackson’s forehead again.

“Death wants Jackson, for whatever other reason than to have his list corrected.”

The Sandman stood off to the side, still trying to send sweet dreams to his friend. They all turned black when they came close, but they did not give off a blue sheen that Pitch’s nightmares did. They absorbed all light and gave off only a cold, harsh feeling. It was as though all hope was being lost, and so Sandy saw Bunnymund stay further and further away from Jackson as time went on.

Or perhaps it was just that the hope that Bunnymund could give, wasn’t the hope that Jackson needed.

* * *

“Pitch, Pitch, Pitch…” He was lost in words and sensations. He was back at Pitch’s home, Everything was burning and sensual to the point where his name never mattered.

_“Jack.”_

“Yes.” The word was spoken without breath and there was no care that the world was getting even darker around him.

_“Darling lamb, what is your name?”_

“Pitch…”

A gentle, rumbling laugh answered his cry of desire.

_“Your name, darling.”_

* * *

The Horseman of War sighed, her breath forming a small cloud in the air. She was on the roof of that Workshop that the Cossack had built many centuries ago. The North Pole was not somewhere that she visited so often, humanity sticking to far warmer regions. It held a stark beauty, the snow covering the mountains and nearby trees. Dur-Bihk Sa would enjoy that natural famine taking place here.

She, however, was finding no enjoyment in the tactics she was using on the Frostling to aid him into Death’s hold.

“Rati Yuddha,” came a voice and she turned to see her older sister.

“Jaya-Iti.” The oldest of the four Horseman sat down next to Rati and smiled.

“Almost? Has he succumbed to your might yet?”

“Sister, you would feel it, wouldn’t you? You are Conquest.” Rati turned to write in the snow, strange letters that she often found comfort it. Mother Nature had shown them to her.

_In the Flames of War and turbulence  
Nature shall not wither_

“Are you uncertain? Why?” Jaya-Iti placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder and squeezed gently. Rati flinched away. Without her armour on her torso, clad in her protective vest, she felt exposed. Her legs were clothed in simple trousers, but the wet of the snow made them numb at least, as though she were protected there as well.

“Do you think Niry-A-Na deserves to have that child?”

Jaya-Iti scoffed.

“Kirana took the child. He was on Death’s List, on the Book of Life itself! Now his name has been placed the Poem of Edda, Mother Nature giving up her claim on him, and you are denying Niry’s claim-”

“You’ve said before that Niry-A-Na has grown jealous and envious!” Rati continued her scrawling in the snow.

_Dearest ones of Snow and Fire  
Death will chase thee thither_

“Yes, he’s the youngest of us, and the most lonely.”

Rati sighed. She knew very well how lonely Niry-A-Na was. She would influence the humans, their civilisations crumbling as War was waged. Then she would look at the battlefield. Niry-A-Na would be holding the body of some human, one who was pale and deathly looking ill.

Out of Conquest and Plague, came Resolution, necessary for an organised and safer Life. There was Innovation, as humans fought against illness and desolation brought on by said illness. The humans, the most precious and fragile of Creation, were given the chance to begin anew and become even stronger. A life of perseverance!

Out of Famine, came Strength and Wisdom, needed for Growth and Development. It strengthened those whose hearts were full of Charity, and punished the wicked by depriving them of the baser needs. Should the weak and charitable die, then their names in the Book of Life were secured in Paradise. An endless life or a more fruitful one!

Out of War, came Peace and Reflection, needed for Births to take place in a healthy manner. A world born again!

Yet, out of Death, there were only Memories, Regrets, Should-Have-Beens… Nothing came out of Death except Legacies. Needed for knowledge, yes, Death was, but Death could never give Birth.

“And you think the Frostling will cure his loneliness, sister?” Rati was unprepared for the hand that came to run through her short hair. The strands that were covered in snow, Rati having been outside for so long, stuck to her cheek.

“… It could help.”

Rati pulled away, pushing away her eldest sibling’s hand. Help, Niry-A-Na may need far more than _help_. He needed someone to be there for him, to be the one he could never care for otherwise.

“Then let him marry or do something else.”

“I have spoken to Niry. He cares not for marriage. He only wishes for a child.”

Rati chuckled.

“So he wants the Frostling to be his child.”

“Yes.”

She stood up, feeling disgusted at herself.

“I have been spending my energy torturing that child, getting him to accept his name for Niry-A-Na’s sake, and he doesn’t understand that maybe things are supposed to be this way!” Rati wrapped her arms around herself, her boots feeling like ice against her warmed legs. Nausea was rising from within her belly and she couldn’t take it! “No one decides what Fate chooses for them! Not even us! We know this!”

“Rati-“

“Do not say my name like you care! You, who is the first born of us four, have never had to pass judgement in such a way that Niry-A-Na and I must.” She turned to her sister, and her vision was going red. Her inner fire was pulsating wildly. It wanted blood. “You are hoping that things will work for the best! We know that it does not!”

Rati Yuddha did not see her sister smile, a roll of Conquest running in her veins.

_Rejoice, Niry. You have a son._

* * *

Pitch opened his eyes, seeing the desert sky above him. He had no energy to move, body feeling the weight of stars upon it.

“Brother, you didn’t need-”

“Niry-A-Na, hush.”

Pitch turned his head, aches in his neck flaring up at the stiff motion.

Dur-Bihk Sa and Niry-A-Na, Famine and Death, stood in his field of sight. Dur-Bihk Sa approached him and crouched down, like a predatory cat spying on how its prey fared.

“You’ve been asleep for a day. Did I really hurt you so?”

Pitch’s body screamed for energy of some kind, as though it had not eaten food, which was ridiculous because the Nightmare King did not _consume_ food.

“I shall take you to the Befana’s Workshop in the North Pole. No, he’s Santa to you, yes?” Pitch felt useless as he was lifted into Dur-Bihk Sa’s arms, his body somehow feeling more tired for a moment.

“Excuse me. I did not mean to take this much energy from you.” The Horseman turned, the Bogeyman man in his grasp, to face his brother. “I do believe, Niry-A-Na, that you have gotten what you wanted.”

Pitch jerked at that.

_Jackson!_

All he heard was a victorious laugh from Niry-A-Na as a light consumed them both, teleporting them away.

* * *

_“Your name, darling.”_

Who was he?

_The Moon told me so._

He parted his lips and let his name ring true.

* * *

Pitch was left at the Workshop, taken by the hand by the Sandman, who hurriedly signed to him Jackson’s predicament.

However, when they arrived at the room, only the first three Guardians remained, North holding the blankets that had been wrapped around Jackson.

“What happened, North?” Pitch croaked, his voice raspy.

“He said his name.” North looked at him. “He only said his name.”

Pitch walked slowly to the bed and sat upon the mattress, shaking, before saying:

* * *

“Jack… Frost.”

Jackson felt his heart stop, and his vision went black.

* * *

“Death needs the name to take someone away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title) Yep, I got nothing.
> 
> Poem) Tiny~ ♥
> 
> Quote) Zend-Avesta: The Avesta is the primary collection of sacred texts of Zoroastrianism, and is composed in the Avestan language. The Zend-Avesta refers to the last Middle Persian paraphrases and interpretations of the individual Avestan books.
> 
> A) Rati Yuddha: The Second Horseman and the Horseman of War. Revelations 6:3-4. I didn't know how to introduce her. Let me tell you, she introduced herself. Rowdy Rati~ She has a rather big part for someone who wants nothing to do with what her siblings are doing. She has some issues that will be dealt with a bit later, by her own hands.
> 
> B) Book of Life - In the Bible, those whose names are written in the Book of Life will go to Heaven.
> 
> C) Poem of Edda - Refers to the Poetic Edda, a collection of Old Norse poems and the most important extant source on Norse mythology and Germanic heroic legends. Jokuli Frosti, or Jack Frost, comes from this mythology.
> 
> D) Befana - an old woman who delivers gifts to children throughout Italy on Epiphany Eve (the night of January 5) in a similar way to Sinterklaas or Santa Claus.
> 
> E) Jackson saying that his Name is Jack Frost - mentioned in the notes for "Who's Afraid?", chapter 1. "When [Niry-A-Na] comes to take [the Dead], however, if they are at the age in which they understand that they have a name and accept that name, the dead must say it to Niry before he can take them."


	2. The Fall of Conquest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness is light  
> Cruelty is kind  
> The Sun reveals  
> Shadows conceal
> 
> The Eye beholds  
> It cannot reveal  
> The survivors tell all  
> Let Conquest fall
> 
> \- "War and Conquest" by /moi/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness, guys. Personal life getting unnecessarily complicated and a fandom from elementary school has captured me again. Today... 11 Jan, I'm updating from the library as my laptop is pretty much dying and my tablet cannot assist.
> 
> *26 Mar 2014: I just noticed that people probably couldn't see the update because it was on the wrong day...

  
_Let the man overcome anger by love, let him overcome evil by good;_

_let him overcome the greedy by liberality, the liar by truth!_

___\- Dhammapada, c. 5th century B.C._ _ _

* * *

Pitch sent out his remaining shadows to the world, to the furthest reaches that his power could handle. He and the Guardians had gone their own ways to find Jackson, still not willing to work together to find him. He cursed breathlessly as he felt the small amount of shadow he had been able to keep. Dur-Bihk Sa had taken most of them when he had been defending Niry-A-Na.

"Where are you?" he asked to the North Wind, but he could not provide an answer that pleased the Bogeyman. The Nightmares that sailed with his might could find no answers either. The South Wind provided similar answers, turning cold in her sorrow. The Western Wind stayed silent, all of his efforts placed in searching every crack in the earth and canyons, the faces of every mountain, and all the space between.

The Eastern Wind had not returned, her attention elsewhere. She relayed to the Nightmares that sailed her to tell the Bogeyman of her discovery.

A building lay in the emptiness of the deserts, with no windows or doors. Just a structure in the middle of an almost lifeless landscape, the Nightmares ran to tell their master of it, the reformed Skadi the only one staying.

She sensed her master inside, the sprite that was blessed by Mother Nature to be one of her own.

* * *

It was dark when he first woke. He had not yet opened his eyes, a chick still covered in the remains of his egg. He knew not what was going on around him, save for that there were creatures around him, talking about something that seemed dire.

Their voices were sharp against his ears and they pained him. He could feel his face scrunching up, his image a grimace of pain, and the voices stopped, becoming very soft and their tongues began to form different words, different sounds. He no longer felt pain and he was soothed by the melody that was formed by the dialogue around him. After calming, he realised that he was in a position that his mind called "lying down" and that he was on a soft structure called "bed covers". Oh, how strange this world was, and he was amazed that his mind began to pour in word after word, idea upon idea, just to provide him with the information that he needed. He began to inhale deeply, his mind informing him that he could detect not just sounds and textures, but smell and taste as well!

The air was rich with "scent" and he sighed softly, his lungs exhaling a tiny puff of breath. He smelt "flowers" and "water", a new sound catching his ears as "water" was being poured into something. A structure touched his mouth, a voice coaxing him gently by pressing it to the line between his lips. 

"Drink," said the being that was holding the watered structure and lo, his mind comprehended! He parted his lips and the water was registered as cold by the touching ability of his mouth. It was refreshing to his mouth and he opened his mouth a bit more to keep the water-structure close. It was taken away, and he relented, deciding to close his mouth and push the water to the back of his mouth, in effort to have more of the cool refreshing feeling, as the water in his mouth began to get "warm". An action that he could not resist was triggered as he pushed the water to the back of his mouth with his tongue, the liquid going down his throat and making his insides cold as it traveled down to some place inside of him where it seemed to stay.

It stayed and stayed, and suddenly the cold vanished, as though it were never there at all. He felt his body make a quick shaking movement, a shiver, and when the water structure was pressed to his lips again, he turned away, a "whine" escaping him. The nothingness that the water had become was frightening to him, not able to comprehend and his mind refusing to explain what had just happened. The structure went away, a sound telling him that the water had been disturbed and that the structure stayed where the water was stored.

Sounds that echoed into the distance, beyond what he could hear, told him that the other people were going away, thei footsteps leaving whatever chamber he was in. The voice that had brought water to him cooed at him and he felt safe. The words were still not registering, not until sounds came that chilled his core.

His mind told him that it was a song and it caused that chilled core of his to resonate with the gentle rhythm of it.

 _"Kakke kakke koodevide_ ," began the voice and although his mind provided that it should be sung a bit faster and more lively, he enjoyed it. He realised that it was a lullaby and that it was meant to soothe him. As he relaxed into the song, a hand came upon his forehead and smoothed his still grimacing brow.

He opened his eyes and was enchanted by the room that he found himself in. The ceiling was a dark green, he processed, with green living things growing around. The flowers were lilies, their petals bright and clear of blemishes. The hand on his face moved something out of his eyes - his hair, short and brown - and he saw that right above him, there was things hanging by delicate-looking strands of metal.

He turned his head to the side slightly and saw the one attached to the hand on his forehead. It was a young man with black hair, sickly pale skin, and blue eyes. If the other hadn't looked so sickly, perhaps his skin would have been a rich color of earth, a healthy clay.

"Good morning, vIta-raNa," were the first words he saw formed, shaped by the lullaby voice. He shifted slightly and opened his mouth.

"'VIta-raNa'?"

"That is your name, my child." The man raised his hand, skeletal fingers pushing back vIta-raNa hair that had come over his eyes. "You must feel fatigued, just drinking the water."

"Yes," he answered. He raised his hand to touch the man's and was shocked by how devoid of heat it was. It did not harm him, only startle, but the man pulled back anyway.

"Do you wish to sleep again?" VIta-raNa, so named, shook his head slowly, not wanting to be lost to the dark again, though his eyelids were closing against his will and he couldn't draw up the strength to resist the natural, unconscious urge yet.

"Who are you, if I may ask?"

"My name is Niry-A-Na, my child." There was delight in Niry-A-Na’s eyes and vIta-raNa caught it. His mind provided the image of a swelling orb of light, and as it grew, it became a person. This person was joined by another ball of light and a smaller person formed, being held and coddled by the other. This image was a Parent and Child.

"You call me your 'child'. Am I yours?"

"Yes, vIta." Niry-A-Na came close and pressed his lips to vIta's forehead in a show of affection, whispering his shortened name against his skin. The child looked up at him.

"tAta..." he mumbled,  testing the word on his tongue, and it felt good. Niry-A-Na brought his arms up to embrace the boy and vIta-raNa felt warm and safe.

He let his father hold him longer and listened as he was told about his family, the Horsemen. When Niry-A-Na left to fetch him something more suitable to his body - he needed special food, things not commonly found on the Earth, his tAta explained - he was left alone.

vIta-raNa sighed, trying to get comfortable on the bed when he saw a shadow on the wall. It seemed to move by its own will and it intrigued him.

"Who are you?" He did not expect a response, so he did not feel disappointed when he did not receive one. Instead, the shadow changed its shape. It became a horse, shining a dark blue in the light.

Words filled his mind, unbidden, as the horse approached him, nuzzling him with its face.

The words that stood most prominently, his mind told him it was a name.

_Jack Frost._

The words filled him with rage, and the name that accompanied it left him with a sense of fear and sadness that seemed too deep for him to understand.

_Pitch Black._

As quickly as it appeared, the horse vanished and vIta-raNa was left with only an empty room. Niry-A-Na stepped inside, a wicker basket in his arms, and examined his child.

"What's wrong, vIta?"

"... Nothing, tAta."

* * *

"A building?" Toothiana felt her feathers ruffle themselves as Pitch told them of this possibility, this chance of finding Jack.

"The Horsemen have existed for millenia, perhaps longer than even I or the Man in the Moon have existed." Pitch had a fire in his eyes as he spoke. Toothiana could make out the personality of a general in how he moved, how his Nightmares were at attention and how he even got Bunnymund and North to stop bickering so he could tell them of this development. Her own faeries were obliged to listen. "The supposed origin of human civilisation is that area in the East, Iraq."

"I think I know of what you're talking about," Toothiana interjected. "A short building, as though it leads to somewhere underground. The only distinguishing structure on it is a snake, I think..." She saw a Nightmare nod and approach her, a portion of its sand removing itself from its flank and forming a small, rectangular structure.

"That seems to be it, yes." The Nightmare's sand returned to its body, the mare snorted as though saying, " _Of course, I know what I saw_."

"They were able to take us on, except for Death," North stated. "And supposedly, War took Jackson away. Famine defeated you, Pitch, and Conquest is the one who made Jack turn back into Jackson again. Why are they targeting him, you said?"

"Death is the only one of the Horseman that cannot have children," Pitch responded. "When he was alive, Jack was set on Death's list, as he told us the night we saw him. The Moon gave him his life as Jack Frost, preventing Death from taking Jack. Because his name was taken off of the list of the Dead, Jack can't be put back on it. Effectively, he cannot die, but he can't live either, just like the Horseman. His existence does not draw power from the Moon nor from Nature."

"Why did he say his name?" Bunnymund, his arms crossed, looked expectantly at Pitch. He had provided most of the answers so far. "He said 'Jack Frost' before he disappeared."

Pitch pondered the thought.

"Why 'Jack Frost'?"

Sandy let his Dreamsand appear over his head. A scene of children coming outside played above his head. It went backwards as a moon and sun went above them in a circle three times.

"'Three days ago'?" North asked, keeping a close eye as the sand changed to an image of a snowflake and a boy, Jackson. They stayed separate and Sandy made them separate further, the snowflake disappearing.

Toothiana floated over to the Sandman, humming.

"Three days ago, Jackson said that he wasn't Jack Frost anymore. If anything, Jack Frost is the dead version of him, given life by Manny, right?" She saw everyone nod, Pitch shuddering slightly at the word 'dead'. "It's his new name, his dead form that Death had to capture. Death can't have a living child. Otherwise, there is the possibility that Jack can be taken away by the other Horsemen."

Tooth's smallest faerie, Baby Tooth, chirped angrily. The other faeries followed suit, only silenced when the Nightmare that had approached Tooth nudged at Baby Tooth with her long nose, as though attempting to comfort the smallest one.

"How can we get Jackson back? Even better, if we could get Jack back-"

"Jackson was already remembering things from his time as Jack Frost." All eyes turned to Pitch. The Guardians were silent, awestruck. "He remembered when I asked him to join me, when I had risen against you."

"His memories are still in that body of his," Toothiana spoke, her mouth widening into a bright smile. Sandy's sand whirled above his head in a happy display.

"If we can bring back Jack Frost, and Tooth brings memories, we can have a whole Jack." North cheered at his plan, grabbing Bunnymund and shaking him at the very idea he had just created.

"Mate, how are we going to get Jackson anyway? There's no entrance to it."

A loud braying pierced the air and another Nightmare dashed in, one with patterns of frost on its flank.

"Skadi?" Pitch asked and the Nightmare dashed down to her creator, golden eyes flashing like flames. Out of her form came a figure of blackened sand, a boy with a crook in his hand.

"You found Jackson?"

She nodded, and Bunnymund held back a smile as the entire Workshop was filled with hope.

* * *

Rati Yuddha, Horseman of War, watched as the Nightmare entered their home, the Ziggurat. She did not deny that she held detest for this plan that her siblings had created, knowing herself how dearly those involving themselves in a battle were injured in the process. Such a dreaded battle for love, Niry-A-Na had started, but it had to come to an end, as all things did.

The Nightmare was gone for only a few moments before it left their home, eyes burning with their golden light.

Rati stepped off of the roof and willing an opening to appear, jumping into the darkness and feeling the opening close behind her. Now the Guardians could come claim their brother and all would be as before.

Niry-A-Na would be just as lonely as before this had all began.

Rati groaned at the thought as she walked down an empty corridor, lit by the glowing beetles on the ceiling and by the strings of glow worms that made their home visible. She trailed her hand on the wall

"Rati Yuddha?" She turned her head to see her elder brother. His skin looked healthy, a colour similar to Niry-A-Na's if it were healthy but lighter still.

"Brother Sa," she answered, using the pet name that she had used for Dur-Bihk Sa in her youth. He approached her, his face pained. He had a black bag at his belt, one that Rati had never seen before.

"May I present something to you?"

"I'm wondering what that something is, brother." Dur-Bihk Sa nodded and pulled the bag from his belt. It was the size of a water-cloth, interesting as her brother rarely held a water container on his person.

"The shadows of the Bogeyman."

Rati's interest leapt.

"... All right. Did you want me to have it?"

"Yes." Dur-Bihk Sa handed it over to her, smiling. She knew that he hoped she was pleased. That was how it had always been. They understood each other as the middle children, helping one another and being happy to do so. It was rare that they issued orders to each others, knowing how the other thought and would act in a situation. "The darkness can be used as an element of War, can it not? I hope it aids you in all of your actions, sister Ibis."

Rati smiled at the pet name, reaching for the bag.

"I shall make the best use of it for my actions, brother Sa." As the bag was placed in her hand, she felt her brother's hand slip away quickly. His smile held and she mourned the fact that he trusted her. He trusted and loved her so much that he placed the weapon of their supposed enemy in her hands, hoping that she would use it for their family, their now-grown family.

"Thank you, sister Ibis," he whispered, as though the walls were listening and he came close to press a kiss to her forehead. "Niry-A-Na is taking the child away, to somewhere they can live peacefully."

Rati shivered at that.

"No, they are not going to somewhere we cannot see them, Rati Yuddha. It is just somewhere not too far away, under the water." Dur-Bihk Sa pulled away, leaving Rati cold. "I find the idea sadistic, as that was how the boy left the world originally, but it might have meaning."

"How so?"

"The boy would have stayed dead if he had remained under the water, if Kirana of the Moon had let him stay there." He raised a hand, his symbol of leaving. "I must away."

She smiled and nodded. He nodded in turn and walked past her.

"Oh, Rati?"

"Yes, brother Sa?" Her reply came out in a rush, surprised to hear him address her again. He had never done that before.

"Keep Jaya-Iti company, please. She is in some distress." Rati turned to see his face and nodded.

"I shall, brother Sa."

* * *

Jaya-Iti sighed, laying on her bed and staring at the white ceiling of her room. Niry-A-Na was with his son, Rati was Lord knows where, and Dur-Bihk was going to eat. Of all things, the bastard was going to eat.

Niry would leave her again and she'd be alone. They had been very close while coming up with this plan, this plan to go against the alien power that the Moon had imposed on the world, and now her youngest sibling no longer had attention to spare for her. The spirit of the world's power, once alien and now familiar, was also angry at her.

A knock came at her door, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Who is it?"

"Rati, sister Iti." Jaya sat up, calling to invite her inside.

"What is it, Rati?" Her voice was cold, but she was used to this. Her younger sister would come to ask something of her, an idea, a game, anything to distract them from boredom, a common ailment.

"..." Rati Yuddha was silent as she entered, closing the door behind her and locking it. Both locks clicked and Jaya-Iti felt anxious.

"Rati?"

Rati Yuddha spoke not a word and her red eyes were glowing. Jaya smirked. This was War, not Rati, in front of her. War held her silence as she held out a black bag in front of her.

"Sister Iti," War spoke, in a quiet but commanding voice. "Is what Niry-A-Na did right?"

Jaya stared at her. "Right?"

"Is it correct? Is it just?"

"Kirana broke our rules. We would not interfere with his actions if he did not interfere with us," the elder sister, now Conquest, argued. "He took that boy off of the List of the Dead and interfered with Niry-A-Na-"

"Why do we fight back now? It has been over three centuries past."

Conquest held her tongue for a moment. War held reason, as she always did, and sadly, this time it was a good one.

"Kirana's powers did allow us to bring the boy to us. He revived the dead with his magic, breathed into a corpse and la, it moved!" Conquest held War's gaze and did not expect fear to make its way into her heart. "The boy is like Niry, a living body, appearing like Death and just as cold."

"... He was happy." Conquest scoffed.

"You should be loving this-"

"I do not live to create wars, Jaya-Iti," War cried. "Just as you do not create illness nor decide the victor. I do not like wars, but I must oversee them, to decide when they end." She grew quiet, her breath the only discernible sound in the room.

"Sister Iti?"

"... Yes, Rati?"

"How do you see who wins?"

Conquest smiled at the question. It had been one that Rati would ask often in their youth.

"I look where the sun casts. Its light shows me the victor."

The black bag moved and War had fire in her eyes.

"I don't agree with any of this, Jaya-Iti." The bag moved again and Conquest had a recollection of shadows. "Try to find the victor in the dark."

Rati swallowed down her sadness, at the desperation she felt as she let the Nightmare King's shadows take her sister.

Conquest fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote) The Dhammapada is a collection of sayings from the Buddha in the form of verse.
> 
> Title) Unimaginative
> 
> Horsemen's ziggurat) Very non descript for a ziggurat. A ziggurat was a building in Mesopotamia, used for religious purposes, that had a square base and stages of decreasing sizes on top, a shrine at the top. It's pretty much a step pyramid. The Horseman's (not)ziggurat is located somewhere in Syrian Desert. 
> 
> Kakke kakke koodevide - A children's song from India. Its English name is "Hey Crow, Where is your nest?" It's fairly cheerful, the melody, but I found the translation to hold for this plotline.
> 
> vIta-raNa) vitaraNa वितरण is Sanskrit for "gift". However, it is spelled with a different emphasis.  
> *vIta वीत means "covered", "hidden", "useless", or "desired"  
> **raNa रण means "joy" or "war" 
> 
> TAta) Sanskrit for "daddy" or "papa"
> 
> Snake) I have a somewhat unhealthy liking for snakes. See Genesis. Also, the cobra was the guardian for the Pharaoh in Ancient Egypt. More symbolism!
> 
> The Nightmare that takes a liking to Tooth is named Haimi, meaning "the seeker".
> 
> Ibis) The rare Northern Bald Ibis can be found in the Syrian desert. The ibis was considered a symbol of wisdom in Ancient Egypt. Their feathers are a pretty blue.
> 
> The Horsemen are interesting to write. I really like Rati.
> 
> Hopefully, this chapter finally reveals in whole what Niry-A-Na wants with Jack.


	3. Forgive Famine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear lover mine that swam away from me,  
> Let me see you again where'er you may be  
> But send me a message in a bottle, please  
> To let me know if you did sink in the sea
> 
> \- "And then..." (Part !)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took such a long time. This is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue. I'd like to thank the people that kept waiting and have to deal with this shit chapter :P I love you all.

  _In reality, man never dies._

_\- Mary Baker Eddy_

* * *

vIta-raNa was hesitant to follow his father to the new home that they would have, anxious as he stared at the water's surface. A sick feeling was welling up inside of his body, like when he had had the water before. A sense of nothingness.

"vIta?"

"TAta... I am frightened."

Niry-A-Na smiled at him and squeezed his son's hand. The Horseman came close and enveloped his son in his arms, bending his head down to kiss the top of his head.

"I am here. You need not be afright, but we may wait until you are ready." He lifted his head and gestured to the river Jordan that saw not too far away. "Do you wish to get used to the water? You were discomforted when you drank before."

vIta-raNa nodded. Yes, surely the discomfort from the water was making him scared.

He had gotten a similar feeling when his father and uncle, Dur-Bihk Sa had had a loud talk before they had left the Ziggurat. A line marked his uncle's face and his TAta backed away from him immediately. Dur-Bihk Sa smiled at his nephew and turned to leave before lifting a bag and saying something that vIta-raNa didn't quite understand.

"'The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want' and still, I see so, so much desire." The bag moved and Niry-A-Na hurried his son out, cheerily bidding his brother well.

They had mentioned a "Pitch" and something about "restless Shadows" that his uncle apparently had been talking to. Dur-Bihk Sa said that he liked their hunger.

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't have your Shadows?" 

Pitch held back the urge to smack himself. Did the Guardians not pay attention or were they trying to annoy him? He sighed heavily and put out his hand. Nothing emerged.  A Nightmare approached his hand and licked his fingers, leaving traces of blackened sand behind. It stayed there, not glistening like the Nightmare Sand that always held a sense of foreboding when looked upon and not swimming through the air in cruel mimicry of a sweet dream.

Toothiana approached and observed the sand, tilting her head in the typical bird-pattern that she had since her youth in Punjam Hy-Loo. She nodded.

"Completely lifeless." Her voice held the air of understanding, prompting Bunnymund to come and observe as well.

The Pooka's eyes held a sense of relief, but Pitch could feel fear radiating deep in his heart. The Shadows had destroyed the Pooka Race; to think them free, truly frightening a thought.

North spoke with the Yetis, speaking in their language, hectic.

"What are they talking about?" Pitch nodded his head towards North and the Yetis. Toothiana listened and nodded.

"Where the Shadows could be. You said that Famine took them, but why would he need them?"

"It was to defend his brother. I... had a discussion with Niry-A-Na." Pitch scowled at the memory. Dur-Bihk Sa's hands were strong, deadly. It reminded him of how the Nightmares had dragged him under the ground, desiring fear.

His fear.

They were famished.

"Damn him."

"Pitch?" Toothiana placed a warm hand on his shoulder. He felt somewhat uncomfortable,  unused to anyone’s touch that didn’t belong to Jack. Jackson's touch.

"What?"

She squeezed his shoulder, most likely to comfort him. He looked up and saw her eyes almost full with tears.

"You really love Jack, don't you?"

Why did that make her-

_Oh._

"I do."

A golden figure came near, gold figures above his head. Another Nightmare, one that Pitch did not know the name of, came with him. Sandy pet its nose and pointed to her.

"What? Did she find something, Sandy?" Bunnymund, long quiet, finally spoke.

Two figures, curly lines that meant water, and a snowflake swam above his head.

The room was silent as he repeated the order of the figures, and all understood what that snowflake meant.

Jack.

A crash erupted through the air and every occupant of the Workshop raised their heads to the ceiling, aghast at the sight there.

* * *

vIta-raNa placed his hand in the water and blinked in pleasant surprise as his hand was pushed upwards with a steady, sturdy force. He had placed the staff that he had inherited - a crook - in the water and had seen how it floated.

"Why does nothing sink?" He turned to Niry-A-Na, who smiled down at him, his blue eyes bright, pleased at his child's curiosity.

"The Sea has much salt in it, making it so thick that nothing will sink so deeply." Niry-A-Na placed his own bony hand in the water, watching the skin of the water bend to hold his hand up. He watched his son out of the corner of his eye, smiling as the boy attempted to push his hand deeper, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"TAta, can we go under this Sea?" Niry-A-Na nodded and reached over for his son's hand.

"Yes." He raised out his own staff, its blade folded in neatly. Its end broke the water's surface and he turned to his son. Smiling reassuringly, he stepped onto the water and pulled his son along. vIta-raNa stepped forward, surprised that the water was bending but still did not let them sink.

Slowly, the water seemed to swallow them, taking them in to submerge the small family in its body, the Sea. A bubble formed around them and let them sink.

* * *

Two women, one with pale skin and the other with hair of fire, were trapped by Shadows upon the ceiling, the wispy creatures growling in a feeling similar to hunger.

They were ravenous. The Guardians held stressed looks on their faces and the Yetis mumbled in their language, grimacing at the noise. Pitch could not hear their thoughts, but he could feel Caution and Fear coming off of them. It wasn’t so strong that he could decipher out words, like he could with Jack.

Recognition filled them all as they managed to see the face of one woman. The one who had been with Death when Jackson had first come into being.

"Horsemen!" North shouted up to them, and the Shadows grew loud in their attempt to keep the Horsemen from communicating.

The red-haired Horseman waved down her hand and the Shadows came down with a roar that threatened to tear down the Workshop, the wooden boards of the building groaning at the force. The Yetis were yelling, the elves running away from the approaching darkness. The Guardians were thrown back, their bodies hitting the walls. Tooth pulled her knives from their sheathes, but the Shadows grabbed her roughly and hit her arms, making the blades clatter to the floor.

"Let go!"

Pitch lifted his head, rubbing the top of his neck as he tried to wear away the pain. He heard Tooth crying out, the Shadows staining her feathers with the feeling of ice-

_Daddy! It's so cold, Daddy!_

He heard his daughter's voice with Tooth's screams, and even Jack's was coming through the coldness that filled the Shop.

_Pitch!_

The Bogeyman reached out, reaching to reclaim those shadows that had been his powerful for so long.

_Why do I want these Shadows again?_

As the darkness came, eyeing him and slinking towards him, they expressed their familiarity to him in the cruelest of ways. Pitch saw memories of his daughter, his little Gift from God, ever hard-working and free. He heard Jack's laughter, bells in his ears. He even felt Jackson's skin against his, the heat of passion that was the same as Jack's, but so different with the warmth of humanity fueling him. The memories came flooding back to him and he even remembered things that he had forgotten in his own youth. 

He remembered his wife's sweetness, her gentle whispers in the night, and he let her name tumble from her lips.

_Damie..._

He remembered his daughter, fierce and fiery as one could ever be.

_Emily..._

His ship was sailing across the night sky and Pitch's dream was to keep from drowning again.

_Jack..._

__Is this how you all felt?_ _

Powerful again, the Nightmare King threw out his hands and let his sand stretch out to the world once more, the four Winds aiding them with their natural speed. It only had one purpose this time.

 

"I will lose no one else."

* * *

Fine lines were distinct in vIta-raNa's vision, his eyes unhindered by the water. He followed Niry-A-Na as the Horseman led him through the salty sea. As vIta-raNa looked around, he saw nothing growing, nothing swimming. No life at all.

"Come," he heard his father say and vIta nodded dumbly. The boy tried to stay close to his father as they went deeper into the sea, the water growing darker as they traveled. He could taste the salt on his tongue and it made him shiver at the taste of Death there. 

He blinked as memories came to him from the taste of the water, though his mind told him that the water should be cold, according to the memory. He remembered whispers and songs from a voice in the Sky, as soft and vague as moon beams.

There was a small building in the deepest parts of the water, but there was a growing sick feeling in vIta-raNa's body, one that made him want to run away, up and out of the Sea.

_Don't go._

It was a familiar voice that vIta-raNa heard from a deep part inside of him. He felt warm when the voice came, but when the first memory of his father, of Niry-A-Na, came, he felt fear and no understanding. Why come to a Dead Sea?

"vIta?"

"No..."

Niry-A-Na turned to the child and saw fear in his eyes.

"vIta, what is-"

"I don't want to go with you."

 _Jack!_ He heard a girl calling him. She sounded as frightened as he felt.

"vIta, you must come-" Niry-A-Na had a desperate expression on his face, as though frightened of any sudden moves that were to follow.

"No!"

 _I'm scared!_ He could heard a splash and saw the black sandy horse from before come towards him.

"vI-"

"That's not my name!"

"No!" He saw Niry-A-Na stretch out his hand, reaching for him, but the water was rushing around him, he realized, and soon his lungs were burning, pining for the air that was shortly denied of him. 

* * *

He remembered the taste of his mother's milk and the smell of his father's clothes that he would be held against when the man came home from his work. He remembered the lambs that were infants like he was. He could still smell his sister's hair, smelling of nothing but what she was, a pure infant.

He could feel Justice's hands against his face and Porter's gentle words in his ear.

The ice had been cold against his feet, and the water that surrounded him even colder.

The Moon kissed his forehead and sang to him.

Mother Nature guided him through the world and gave him the Winds as his siblings.

Only recently did more friends appear to him, and did he appear to friends.

His heart had been frozen for so long, and the darkness had brought it back to him.

_Pitch?_

Who was he anymore? Could he even trust this person that made his heart disappear in his chest and replace it with an aching need for him?

_I don't know..._

_I don't know what I am anymore..._

He couldn't be any of what he was.

_End me, please._

* * *

When the Guardians arrived to the Dead Sea, they saw Niry-A-Na kneeling beside a figure on the beach, while someone stood a rather good distance away from them. Pitch ran towards the two.

"Niry-A-Na!"

The Guardians were right behind him, weapons brandished. The third figure on the beach approached the group, holding up his hands and showing no weapon.

"Forgive me," he said.

"Famine," Pitch growled. "I'm taking Jack back."

"I gave Jack what he wanted."

* * *

As he heard his sister's voice disappear, and the movements on the ice began to blur from his vision, Jackson had no regrets at all.

_I did what I had to do._

He could see the life that his sister would live now, growing up and raising children, becoming a reputable woman like their mother was.

_I have no regrets at all._

He smiled.

_I think... I'm ready to go._

* * *

"What do you mean 'what he wanted'?" They heard Niry-A-Na shriek. The Horseman came at Dur-Bihk Sa with fury in his eyes.

"The child was ready to leave." Famine held pity for his youngest sibling, something that Pitch recognized as the same expression he had on his face as when he had attacked Pitch in Niry-A-Na's name. It had been pity for his brother only. "You heard what Mother Nature had said as well. You would have him, and now you do."

"I wanted a child! Not another name on my list!"

Pitch heard Toothiana let out a mournful cry, and he rushed to see the body on the beach. He could feel no fear from it. Pitch felt his body run forward, and it was as though he was not in his own body as he cradled Jackson's body to his chest.

"Jackson," he was crying out, trying to arouse the boy. He felt a burst of affection from the body, a soft  _Pitch_ whispered in his mind.

"Jackson..."

_Live for me, please... I'll see you later._

"Please... Stay here."

_I can't... Not anymore._

"I love you."

_I love you, too. But I don't know what that means anymore. I'm so tired, Pitch... But I'll be waiting. Trust me?_

"... For now, Jackson."

_Thank you, for saying my name._

There was only Death by the Sea, and the Moonlight glittered on the water, as though there was nothing else it could do to mourn. It was not a trustworthy thing.

All was silent, and what it was, was worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote) Mary Baker Eddy (1821-1910) was the founder of Christian Science. After a spinal injury, she opened her Bible and went on to perform Biblical study, leading to the creation of Christian Science. It involves the pursuit of a deeper connection with God and an explicit rejection of medication and drugs.
> 
> * Damie - From the Catholic Saint of healing.
> 
> * Dead Sea :) I'm punny.
> 
> * There will be a small epilogue one-shot, or one-shots describing the characters' past and the like in this universe. Send me questions if you like.


	4. Mystery of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is always the end of a thread, but it connects to a new one. We don't always have to see what kind of fabric it makes; we just need to know that it keeps going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Black Ice Fandom was very important to me in school, and my friend ship with miss-evening/Anny is important as well.

_After your death you will be what you were before your birth._

_\- Arthur Schopenhauer_

* * *

 

North oversaw the construction and design of toys for the New Year's Christmas. At any moment now, he expected the cheering laugh of a mischievous brat that would come in, bring in the snow, and perhaps be willing to test his designs for the older children.

It never came; the voice was dead, and all he could hope for was that General Winter would be kind enough to send a kinder, softer winter, one where his children could have fun and play pretend that Jack Frost did come again this year.

He looked up to the Moon, whose face rarely shone again on the North Pole. It was ashamed, for what kind father that would save his child, not try to do so again, even in the face of the impossible?

Jackson had been a youthful spirit; even on the cusp of marriage, he was kind and young, the perfect adult that would spread the message of light and hope down to his children. Instead, he became the playful winter spirit that spread light and hope, beginning with his descendant.

Jamie had cried into North's coat when he had told him the truth, that Jack would not be coming back to him this Christmas. He pounded on the large man's belly, and his tears made the cup of milk salty. North only held the boy, the boy whose eyes looked too much like Jackson's for him not to be missed.

It is lonely when a relative is not there for Christmas, but the warmth from the love for that person, it melts the snow and makes one forget about the cold.

* * *

 

Toothiana remembered the night of her parents' murder. It had been a memory that she never let herself lose, for fear that if she forgot, she would not seek to protect children from that loneliness and from that pain that comes with the loss of innocence. Every once in a while, she came upon a child that had grown up too soon, and she would push for that child to see light, to find a good memory in all of the darkness, because sometimes the darkest parts of their mind kept that special memory that they had locked away.

Toothiana was cradling Jackson's memory case in her hands, and so she looked for the last memory, the last one of Jackson, the boy what would become Jack Frost.

_They were dancing._

She felt happy tears roll down her face.

_The images carried the scent of freshly-chopped wood, spices, and the scent of the cold, as cold has a scent no matter what people tell you. They were dancing, Jack and Pitch, but the memories were super-imposed. Jack and Jackson, Pitch and what was Kozmotis Pitchiner, were dancing, and the other Guardians were there. They were having fun together, and even Mother Nature herself was there, giving the softer stare that meant that she was smiling._

_Justice Yates and her elder brother Porter were there, along with a girl that looked too much like Jackson and Jamie for Tooth not to realize that this was the girl that Jackson had saved, the girl that kept his childhood alive._

_His little sister, whose lips graced Jack/son's cheek and kept his youth alive._

_But there was no warmth in this memory._

'Of course not,' Toothiana thought, wiping her face from the tears. 'It's the memory of a dream. A dream that won't come true.'

But to this day, she works every night, hoping that perhaps even the memory of a dream can save a child, like it did for Jackson.

* * *

 

"Amen."

Years later, Bunnimund watched from outside of the small chapel as the priest inside dipped his fingers into the small container of ashes and graced Sophie's forehead. His little ankle-biter was growing up.

She walked down the aisle, six years old and already behaving like a little lady. She sat down next to Jamie and looked to the window. She spotted Bunnimund and gave a small wave. His heart lit up and he waved in kind, his little girl getting older by the day.

Jamie was already heading into adolescence, as were his friends, but every year on Easter, they still went out to find the eggs that Bunnimund made. Sophie always came along with them, hoping to catch a glance of her tall bunny friend.

And every year he came, even though he told her that he might not have time to see her.

_"I'll always hope so, Bunny."_

Bunnimund would hold out hope too, because Jack always held hope that someone would see him, and when Sophie saw him, Bunnimund had fallen in love with her, his little girl.

'Thank you, Jack.'

* * *

 

Sandy looked down from his cloud of sand, down at the man in black that wandered the streets, looking for a child that was out being dangerously naughty. It was his task to keep an eye on the Bogeyman now, along with that of-

_Emily?_

He looked to his right and had noticed her cloud-like dress. Mother Nature looked to him, the sleet of winter coming down from her, an opposite feeling to Jack Frost's playful snow.

"He's little time left. I won't remind him."

Mother Nature left at that, floating downward to walk alongside her father. She felt a child's fear of a coming storm, a rainy day, a natural disaster, and in this coastal city, these were all possibilities.

Possibilities that the Bogey-

Emily closed her eyes and opened them slowly. She couldn't remember when she had last done so but she reached out with gold fingers to grasp her father's darker ones. Memories of her mother braiding her hair, stardust in her long, black locks, and her General Father coming home to pick her up and spin her around, calling her hair a spinning galaxy.

The-man-once-Kozmotis looked down at their interlaced hands and looked up at her. She saw those golden eyes and knew that she had them as well. She swallowed roughly, leaning forward to press her lips to her father's cheekbone.

Starlight shone down on them as the sleet-filled weather faded, followed by the coming of spring as the-man-once-Kozmotis brought his arms around his daughter and they shared an embrace that had been delayed by millennia, by a trick of Shadows and the temptation of Not-Loneliness.

Sandy smiled down at them.

A dream come true.

* * *

 

It was winter again, a winter without Jack, and Pitch found himself remembering too many things. The touch of Jack's skin; the warmth of Jackson; that playful laugh with bright eyes; those whiskey eyes and shyness; everything was becoming overwhelming and his heart was breaking; and the more he resisted it, the wose the pain became.

His daughter was speaking to him again, if infrequently. The Guardians came to offer company. Famine, of all the Horsemen, spoke with him of starvation, of loss.

"All creatures have tanks of love. Yours will be full again."

He was dying. How was he supposed to be full again?

Pitch closed his eyes and let the cold bite his skin. It reminded him of Jack too much and he gladly took the punishment.

'If I had stayed away from him, if I had rubbed that first bit of frost from my hand, if I had pushed him away!

'If I had not wanted him!'

Then he'd have been alone, he knew; his heart would not have been found and he would have remained the Bogeyman forever. He liked who he had become; he became something of a Guardian, and he had felt love.

'I would never have known his love...'

Jack's playful love; innocent love; passionate; angry; sad; desperate; Jack-

'JackJackJackJackJack...'

His mind was getting lost in the cold, as if it were embracing him so tightly that it robbed Pitch of the ability to think. He reached up and imagined a lithe hand in his, the other hand traveling downward and 'Yes, Jack. Love me now!'

He was crying out love and his body was fading away, lost in sensation and pleasure. He dared not open his eyes, because he'd only face Death surely.

The moonlight was on his skin, and it urged him to open his eyes. 'Please!' it said. 'Open your eyes, Pitch!'

The cold kisses to his skin felt too much like his, the insides of his thighs quivering, before they pulled away and the cold filled him wholly.

'...h'

He moved against that cold, imagining that it was someone.

'...h!'

Someone that he used to know.

'...-ch!'

Someone he loved.

'...-itch!'

His Jack Frost, who would be kissing his collar bone right now the way the cold was.

"-ck!" he cried out, and he opened his eyes as the waves of pleasure began to drown him. He froze in pleasure and in shock as a blue and a whiskey-colored set of eyes gazed back at him.

'The last time,' he heard, and Pitch paid no mind to that as he embraced Jack Frost-Jackson Overland- his lover for the first time in years.

'The last time, Pitch.'

'How are you-'

Lips, as cold and deathly as the same corpse that Pitch had buried, were against his, and Pitch let himself be pushed down and given pleasure to, again and again, with the Moon and the Wind as their companions.

'The last time, and then to the Wind, Pitch, to the Night.'

'Yes, yes, yes!'

Their hands were everywhere, hoping to regain the physical memory in ghostly fingertips of what their bodies were, and that they still remembered too much about each other that they had to be the same lovers that had been separated years ago. The cold eventually stopped filling Pitch but he was sheathed inside of it instead, a reminder of the last times before their world, their world of cold and dark, was destroyed by light and warmth, the desperate argument that love only existed in the light, warmth, and life.

The coldest night of the year was also the darkest, but the Wind and Moon can attest that it was not the loneliest and it was certainly not out of love that they would say these things; the proof they saw was enough to say that the cold and the dark were the most passionate of lovers because no warmth could exist there, nor the light.

They didn't need that at all.

* * *

 

If you look outside on a clear, dark winter's night, you will usually find the full moon, beaming down with his bright white face. The stars twinkle in the sky, a sea of shimmering lights amid the blackness of space.

The cold will tickle your nose, and your shadow will stay as a quiet guardian behind you, leading you forward through the snow that crunches beneath your feet. You pick up that snow, and you remember all the little things of wonder that the winter and the dark have brought you; the winter gave you play time, and the darkness gave you bravery and caution.

They are wise and they are kind, much like the Magi who were wise and brought what the future needed them to bring. The cold and darkness are not so different at all, as they are as similar as two small, brown birds that sing when the sun changes in the sky.

A lark and a nightingale.

And if you listen closely to the wind, the winds come to bring the cold and darkness together as a family, because they send the whispers of all of those that love the cold, clear winter's night.

They send the love of the cold and the dark, the things from which new life emerges when the thaw finally comes and the spring pulls up the buds from the soil with its eager fingers, Mother Nature smiling and waving "Fare Well" to the Dark and the Winter.

They travel everywhere to bring their love, because it is what they offer the world.

Even in death, their love remains.

* * *

_The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death._

_\- Oscar Wilde_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to disappear for a while now. I'll be back ::hugs::


End file.
